Page 95 of Cursed

I follow him to the table, where he sets two plates loaded with eggs, bacon, and toast. It’s surreally normal, like we’re playing house instead of whatever twisted game this actually is.

“You need to clear your schedule for tomorrow night,” Landon says between bites of toast. His tone is casual but leaves no room for discussion. “The Blackwood Foundation is hosting its annual charity ball, and you’ll be attending with me.”

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. “A charity ball? With you?”

“Is that so surprising?” He raises an eyebrow. “The Blackwood Group has legitimate business interests, too. This particular event raises millions for children’s hospitals.”

“No, I just...” I set my fork down. “I hadn’t thought about going out in public. With you. As your...”

“As my what, Sadie?” His eyes lock onto mine, challenging.

I don’t have an answer. What am I to him? His victim? His possession? His partner in whatever this is becoming?

“People will see us together,” I say instead. “They’ll wonder who I am.”

“They’ll know exactly who you are.” His voice drops lower. “You’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

“I have nothing to wear to an event like that,” I try.

“Already taken care of.” He smiles coolly. “A stylist will be here this afternoon with options.”

Of course. Landon Blackwood leaves nothing to chance.

We finish eating in silence, the weight of tomorrow night hanging between us. When he’s done, Landon rises and cups my face with one hand, tilting it upward. His thumb traces my bottom lip before he bends down and kisses me – not roughly or demandingly, but with a gentleness that somehow unnerves me more.

“I’m going to shower,” he says against my lips. “Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

As he walks away, I exhale shakily. My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it last night. Probably Jolene checking in after her confrontation with Landon.

I open the text and freeze.

It’s from a withheld number. The image shows Jolene tied to a chair, eyes wide with terror, mouth gagged with a cloth. Blood trickles from a cut on her forehead.

The message below the photo is simple,

Don’t tell anyone about this, or she dies.

39

LANDON

“Istill think we should’ve used the usual shell companies,” Knox leans against the wall, watching Xavier adjust his bow tie in the mirror. “Bringing the carnival crew into our territory is risky.”

I check my cufflinks, platinum squares with our Blackwood crest. “The DEA’s watching our usual channels. Tyson’s operation gives us plausible deniability.”

“Plus,” Vane adds with a smirk, “watching Gage try to pass as catering staff will be fucking hilarious.”

The door swings open, and Tyson strolls in with his signature swagger. “Speak of the devils,” I say.

“Nice digs,” Tyson nods appreciatively at our preparation suite. “The boys are setting up downstairs. Though I had to physically drag Phoenix out of his tech cave.”

Phoenix scowls. “I’m a hacker, not a fucking waiter.”

“You’re whatever I need you to be tonight,” Tyson claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it character development.”

Colt and Nash exchange amused glances.